


what do you want from me? why don't you run from me?

by hellborn



Series: bury a friend [1]
Category: My Chemical Romance, Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Suicide Attempt, Supernatural - Freeform, angel!gerard, bury a friend, hunter!frank
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 18:06:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19728961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellborn/pseuds/hellborn
Summary: Their first meeting is unconventional in the sense that it’s not really a meeting at all. It’s a dream.





	what do you want from me? why don't you run from me?

**Author's Note:**

> idk if i've talked about writing an mcr supernatural au before but if i did, this wasn't the one i was talking about. this was kinda spur of the moment, written out last night as the foreward for some other vague idea i had a couple weeks ago. i have no idea when the actual mcr spn will be out as only a little is written so far, but i'd very much like it to be long and well-written so idk man you'll see it when you see it. 
> 
> it feels great to be writing again! i hope this isn't too bad :/ 
> 
> leave me a comment!! tell me what you like, what you don't like! xoxo
> 
> *TRIGGER WARNING* SUICIDE ATTEMPT

Their first meeting is unconventional in the sense that it’s not really a meeting at all. It’s a dream. Frank remembers the untidy tangle of his midnight hair. The soft upturn of his pixie nose. His wide hazel eyes. It’s not even like they talk. He’s in the background of all Frank’s dreams, but somehow, he’s in the foreground. It’s like it’s impossible for Frank to not notice him. He’s a constant presence, and not a reassuring one at that. He’s unsettling. It’s like Frank’s being watched. To make matters worse, Frank typically does not remember his dreams. These are clear as day. 

Unsettled and on edge from the constant presence of the man in his dreams, Frank hits a library and ransacks the supernatural section. Researching the old school way has never before done him wrong, so when he doesn’t find answers there, he turns to books about dreams and their meanings, unconscious thought and sleep. 

Nothing clicks. Nothing he finds feels right. There’s plenty of information, but not the kind he needs. Tail between his legs, Frank turns to the internet. He avoids it because, anyone, anywhere can add their two cents no matter what. Added to that, it’s almost impossible to determine fact from fiction online. Especially in the supernatural scene. In the books, Frank can trust that the information is trustworthy and not going to get him killed horribly. You learn through experience. 

Cautiously, Frank raises his fingers above the keyboard before slowly clacking out:  _ recurring man in my dreams  _ into the search bar. He hesitates momentarily before clicking the search button, not wanting the results to be sexual, yet another drawback of the internet: filled with sex. (Not that Frank didn’t like sex, just when he wanted to get his dick wet, he was gonna find actually go find someone in real life, someone that was not his right hand). 

He searches around for awhile before adding ‘ _ supernatural _ ’ to the end of his search. From here, Frank is rewarded with a small subreddit community of hunters, sharing experiences that were weird, weirder than the hunter’s typical 9 to 5. 

One girl spoke of seeing a man in her dreams every night, until she started seeing him in real life every day. She told how she began to feel as though her life had been consumed by the man, so in typical hunter fashion, she started trying to kill him. Unfortunately, her efforts proved to be fruitless. She followed the man, trying to get him alone, but never could. When she tried to confront him directly, he would stare at her, through her, and blink. When she tried to touch him, her hand burnt. She began to believe that she was possessed, poisoned or drugged. She felt like she was going insane to the point where she got down on her knees and prayed to god for it to stop, cried and screamed and cut up her arms longways. She blacked out. When she woke, she was tucked under the duvet of the motel room’s bed she had been staying at and her arms were healed., no trace of the wounds meant to kill remained. And the man was gone. She never saw him again. 

After reading the post, Frank sat back and blankly stared at the monitor, dumbfounded and unsettled. The writing was very convincing, the woman obviously fully belived she had experienced this, maybe truly had experienced it , or maybe she was just a skilled writer wanting to spin a tale. Spin a tale she had indeed. Frank contemplated sending the user a message before closing the window and putting the library in his rear view mirror. 

The dreams go on for another week before Frank sees him.  _ Sees him, _ sees him. For real. He’s in a gas station grabbing a 5-star breakfast of a pack of twinkies and a paper cup of shitty coffee when he feels the familiar icy-cold touch of being watched prickle across the back of his neck. He nonchalantly turns around, making to grab for a pack of cheetos as he scans the area and slides his free hand under his coat to grasp the butt of the gun tucked into the back of his jeans. There he stood, all greasy curtain of hair and huge sunglasses, and Frank bails, dropping the cheetos and shoving the twinkies into his waistband. 

That night, Frank turns to the nearest library and tries to find the reddit post again. It’s gone. Or at least, the woman’s account is. He tries to ignore the shiver that climbs down his limbs and goes to visit the man in his dreams. 

After three days, (and just as many nights) Frank decides he hallucinated the post (or the girl had hallucinated and taken her post down by herself) and he’s gotta try and talk to the guy. He wasn’t going to cry out to a god he didn’t believe in for help. That’s not how he was raised. He was going to face this thing himself. Deal with it himself. 

He heads to the nearest diner and is halfway through his second doughnut when he walks through the door. Frank watches him carefully, like a hunter sizes up his prey, and tries to formulate a plan when the absolute last thing Frank had expected to happen happens. 

The man makes his way into the diner, pushes his sunglasses back into his messy hair and sits down across from Frank. 

Startled, Frank loses all fragments of the ill-constructed plan and blinks a few times before saying, “Hello?”

“Hey,” the guy says, fiddling with the zipper on his hoodie. His voice is not what Frank had expected it to be, not that he’d been imagining what he would sound like, (he had) all nasally and high.

They stare at each other for a solid minute before the guy breaks the silence. 

“I suppose you have some questions.”

Frank snaps. “You’re damn right I do! Seriously, who the hell are you and why won’t you leave me alone?”

The guy smiles crookedly, and Frank wants to punch him in his stupid tiny teeth, before reaching across the table to steal Frank’s coffee. “My name is Gerard and I am an angel of the lord.” 


End file.
